


While the Inquisitor is Away

by Cyberfairie



Series: Spy Business [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Drinking & Talking, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberfairie/pseuds/Cyberfairie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian and Bull rushed back from their latest mission with the Inquisitor so that Dorian would be certain to see Emile before he had to return to Tevinter.<br/>Once Dorian learns that Emile has been spending his free time with the Chargers will he still be sorry to see him go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	While the Inquisitor is Away

Dorian had only been back in Skyhold a few moments when he heard the first snicker as he walked past.  Considering his robes were encased in Storm Coast mud and he was certain his hair was sticking straight up thanks to some combination of spider and deepstalker body parts he didn’t want to explore, he ignored it.

But several hours later, once he had completely scoured his body and put on his favorite robe, the ones that left just enough shoulder bare to allow Bull’s mark to peek out, he heard it again.  This time he spun around to find Rocky staring anywhere but at him.  With a shake of his head he continued climbing the stairs to the great hall, the dwarf had probably just gotten caught in one of his own explosions.  Certainly, there was nothing about Dorian that could have elicited such a response.

The plot thickened when he reached his alcove and found two peacock feathers stuck into an empty tankard sitting on a stack of his books.  Where in the world had someone in Skyhold found peacock feathers?  Plucking one of them from the cup Dorian puzzled over why anyone would…

“Emile.” Dorian grinned as a long forgotten memory popped into his head.  Apparently the mage had been bored while left alone in Skyhold the last week.  Striding quickly from the library toward his own room his mind played back over one summer he’d spent with Emile and Felix.  One evening there had been too much wine and too little common sense and…

“Excuse me Messere.”

Dorian looked behind him to find one of the maids peering up at him through her bangs.  “Yes?”

“Is it true Messere?”  The woman was turning positively red now and had ceased attempting to look at him.  When he didn’t respond she finally risked a glance and caught his raised brow.  “They say Messere that you can breathe fire.”

Andraste’s ass.  This was positively the last time he left Emile alone in Skyhold.  “My dear I assure you it was merely a party trick.  A combination of ice…”

When the woman’s eyes glazed over Dorian stopped speaking only to see disappointment on the maid’s face.  Well, it was but a small spell.  Closing his hand in a fist Dorian summoned a bit of frost first then as he raised his fist to his mouth he summoned a small ball of flame to the center of his palm.  The effect when he released a breath over his opened palm was a short burst of flame with a lovely curling mist around the edges.  Again, nothing but a parlor trick but the maid’s eyes widened just before she clapped in joy and threw her arms around Dorian.

“Thank you Messere, it was glorious.”

“Yes, yes, you’re welcome,” Dorian assured her with a pat as he disentangled himself.

“I would not have believed.  Natalia will be so jealous,” the woman said with a shake of her head as she headed off the other direction.

Dorian groaned.  He had a feeling that little display was going to cost him more time in the near future.  Still, it was a big improvement over being spat on he admitted, a little smile on his face as he reached his room and knocked. 

 

Bull had barely gotten the horses passed off to Master Dennett before his day had gotten bizarre.  Well, technically things had gotten bizarre when they’d encountered that cave the Boss ‘just had to’ take a look in and had emerged an hour later covered in spider guts, three swatches of plaidweave their only reward.  The spiders were the reason he was returning the horses with Varric, both the Boss and Dorian had leapt from their mounts and practically raced for the stairs.

However, his day had taken a turn toward _more_ bizarre when he passed Bonnie’s stall on his way to his own room and she’d chuckled before taking the time to let him know she could get her stock in in larger sizes.  Assuring her that was good to know he’d exchanged a puzzled look with Varric before they parted ways for their respective rooms.

When he finally dropped his pack down in the corner of his room and went to look for the bath supplies he normally left on his dresser he found his usual bar of soap missing and something smelling distinctly of roses and crystal grace in its place.  Idly wondering if the ‘Vint was trying out a new scent he was forced to shrug and grab the bar and a towel.  He’d have to hit up Ser Morris in the morning, he’d used the last of his old bar while still on the ‘Coast.

 

Bull was just making his way back from the baths, the soft scent of roses that tickled his nose at every step reminding him of a mission he’d been on with the Chargers when they had all…

“Amatus, why do you smell like an Orlesian bordello?”

Veshedan.  That was exactly it.  The Chargers had taken on a job to track down a wayward Ativan noble whose family had last heard from him in Orlais.  Unfortunately the lad had taken to spending his time moving from one whorehouse to the next and as it was rather hard to hid his seven foot frame Bull had been the lucky one to spend his time waiting in the baths…the very scented baths.  He had smelled like, well, just like this for weeks.

“Amatus?”

“Apparently the boys got a little bored while we were gone,” Bull grumbled, finally looking down at his lover.  “Is that a peacock feather?”

Stroking his fingers down the length of the blue and green feather Dorian chuckled, “It would appear the Chargers weren’t the only ones who were bored.”

“Do I sense a story?”

Dorian sniffed purposefully.  “I’ll tell if you do.”

“Somehow I think yours will be more interesting,” Bull chuckled, gesturing with the towel and soap he still held.  “Let’s drop this off and I’ll buy you some of that Ferelden ale you hate so much.”

“It’s not the ale I oppose so much as the dog fur that seems to come with it.”

“Well, Cabot does take great pride in being authentic.”

Dorian snorted, walking through the door into Bull’s room ahead of the Qunari just to freeze in the doorway when he caught sight of the bed which was covered in…was that Orlesian silk?  Stepping toward the bed Dorian chuckled, “Not that I’m opposed to the finer things Amatus but really, blood red?”

‘What are you…” Bull started, breaking off as he stepped into the room to find Dorian running his fingers over a red silk duvet.  How in the fuck had he missed _that_ when he’d been here before?  Oh yeah, mud and spider innards.  “I didn’t...”

“Oh, I’m not complaining Amatus,” Dorian interrupted with a wicked grin as he sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the silk like he would a cat. “I rather like it.”

“You’ll have to thank Krem then.”

“Krem?”

“Yeah, let’s go get that drink and I’ll explain…” Bull said as he tugged Dorian to his feet and pulled him through the door that led into the tavern. 

Immediately the sounds of raucous laughter echoed in their ears and the pair looked at each other as they recognized most of the sounds.  Approaching the railing surrounding the third floor they leaned over to see that the area the Chargers typically occupied held not only the Chargers but also Varric, Sera and Cole, the entire group looking toward the end of the table where a certain russet haired mage was currently gesturing wildly in the air.

As Dorian hurried down the stairs he had a feeling just from the arm movements he knew what story Emile was telling, a feeling that was proven true as he reached the halfway point of the stairs to the first floor and could hear Emile’s voice.  “…and right then Alexius walked through the door just as Dorian began swinging back across the room, his hands slipping down the curtain so he ended up naked at Alexius’ feet in a puddle of emerald green velvet.”

“Emile!”

Emile spun around, the smile on his face almost enough to make Dorian forget he’d been sharing an intensely embarrassing memory of Dorian’s.  Almost.  Dorian found himself wrapped in an embrace, Emile’s voice booming next to his ear, “Ren!  When did you get back?”

“Apparently not soon enough to keep you from telling tales,” Dorian grumbled, frowning over his friend’s shoulder as another round of laughter erupted at the table.

“Don’t worry Sparkler,” Varric grinned, “the Chargers have been telling us all about Bull’s exploits too.”

“Krem…” Bull’s deep voice echoed over Dorian’s shoulder as he untangled himself from Emile.

“What Chief?  Wouldn’t be fair to just know all of Dorian’s secrets now would it?” Krem queried, somehow managing to make himself look younger and more innocent despite the battered plate mail he wore. 

“Apparently I need to talk to the Boss about keeping you lot occupied.”

“We have been very occupied The Iron Bull,” Cole added from where he was perched on the table to Varric’s left.  “Shiny, silky, hot…”

“That’s enough Cole,” Dorian grumbled, nudging at Emile as he moved past his friend to drop into Bull’s normal chair only to be hoisted back up a moment later when Bull sat down first then put Dorian on his lap.   When Emile settled into the chair to their right Dorian hissed, “I can’t believe you told them about that Satinalia, Em.”

“It’s not like I told them about crashing Archon Radonis’ Wintersend gala.”

A chorus of sputters echoed around the group, beer wasted as it hit the table instead of being swallowed only to have fists hit the table moments later.  “What?”

Dorian was shifted as Bull laughed beneath him.  “Oh this I have to hear Kadan.”

“Em…”

“Awwww, come on Ren,” Emile pouted, his moss colored eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Fine, but I need a drink.  I am far too sober for this.”

The table erupted again in cheers and Dorian watched Stitches slip away towards Cabot as Emile took a deep drink of his ale before starting.  “So, where to begin…I don’t know about Wintersend in the south but at home the highlight of the holiday is always the tourneys at the proving grounds.  It was Felix’s first year in college and he had managed to convince Alexius to bring him home for the holiday.  Of course in celebration we needed to attend the Grand Tourney and there dear Ren fell in lust with one of the combatants.”

“It wasn’t lust…I simply had a great deal of gold bet on him.”

“And the fact that you could see every muscle beneath his armor and that he moved like a panther had nothing to do with it,” Emile countered, smiling as Stitches dropped two tankards of ale in front of Dorian and Bull.  “Drink up Dorian and let me tell the story.  Anyway, I can’t remember the man’s name but he was certainly a fine specimen, even I could admit that.  Long golden hair and blue eyes that seemed to freeze his opponents in place and Ren was determined to meet him.

“The only problem is that he won the Tourney that day and part of his boon was attending the Archon’s gala that evening.  Archon Radonis loves to consider himself a man of the people and no better time than Wintersend to drive that point home.  However, the three of us lacked the requirements for entry…specifically either being Tourney winners or ranking members of the Magisterium.”

“So what did you do?” Dalish’s voice echoed out from the end of the table and Dorian sighed and reached for his beer. 

“Ren knew that there would be entertainment there, the invitation that had arrived for Alexius had specified a theatrical troupe along with minstrels and bards so Ren convinced Felix’s tutor to procure a set of common clothes for each of us, telling the man we simply wanted to enjoy the festival without being known and then we dressed, formal robes beneath cotton and linen and waited until the theatrical troupe entered through the servants entrance then slipped in with them. 

“The problem is that while the Archon may be vain he is not a stupid man and there was no way that a bunch of commoners would be allowed to travel anywhere in the royal residence unescorted so there we are, following at the tail end of the troupe, royal guards behind us right up until they shoved us out onto the stage.”

Bull’s laughter drowned out the sound of Dorian’s low groan and he wondered if it was too late to slip a sleeping potion into Emile’s drink.  Apparently aware of Dorian’s distress Emile just winked at him as he stood, his hands once again becoming animated as he got into the story, “So, there we are on stage, the vast majority of the Magisterium staring at us and the actors finally realizing there were three more of them than belonged.  Unwilling to lose their commission the leader started the performance even as he tried to figure out which of the three didn’t belong on his stage.  Thank the Maker for the hoods and masks that everyone wore which made his job more complicated.  Even better, the performance was one that Dorian and I had seen before so fitting in with the background performers was a fairly simple matter until we remembered the dance near the end of the first act.

“Now, Felix was a great many things, but a graceful dancer was never one of them, and being the only one with no clue what was going on didn’t help matters.  Ren and I kept glancing at each other, sweat beginning to bead on our brows as the moment drew closer and then the entire troupe was dancing, this rousing peasant dance that swings partners from one to another and back again and here’s Felix, tossed about like a drunk from a bar, his feet treading on more feet than stage.  The audience was laughing, the troupe was fuming and finally Ren got his arms around Felix and motioned for me to take the other side and we stumbled off the stage right into the royal guards.

“Ren convinced them that Felix was having an attack and simply must lie down immediately or risk ruining the Archon’s event and the guard was looking like he’d rather just throw the lot of us out on the street when Felix upped the ante by dropping to the ground and flopping like a dying fish.   Finally the guard grudgingly let us drag Felix to a nearby storage room and locked us in.  Luckily Ren had a bit of a way with locks back then…”

“Is that so Sparkler?” Varric chuckled, looking at Dorian as if he’d been holding out on him.

“…and from there it was simply a matter of stripping off the common clothes and straightening our formal blacks.  No one questions a mage in formal attire and soon we were all rubbing elbows with the upper Echelons of the Magisterium.  Granted, Felix was doing it with a bump on his head the size of a dragon fruit and somehow, now that I think about it, we seemed to lose Ren not long after that.”

“Knew you didn’t always shit gold Fancy Britches,” Sera chuckled, raising her tankard in Dorian’s way.

“Yes, well, it does become hard on the body,” Dorian sighed with a grin.  “Made plenty of room for your arrows though.”

Sera about fell off her chair laughing and the rest of the Chargers joined in.  “I take it you found your blond champion Kadan,” Bull growled in Dorian’s ear.

“A gentlemen never tells.”

“Reminds me of the time the Chief got us a contract protecting this princess from the Anderfels,” Krem began and the Chargers laughed, obviously familiar with the tale.

“Not _that_ one Krem,” Bull grumbled, ignoring the elbow Dorian poked into his rib.

“Now Amatus, fair is fair.”

“Yeah,” Sera chuckled, having righted her chair and grabbed for her ale again.  “It’s the Chargers turn, that’s how it goes.”

“’That’s how it goes’?” Dorian sputtered, turning a critical eye towards Emile.  “Just how many of my secrets have you spilled?”

Emile shrugged.  “You are gone fairly often.”

Dorian groaned just as Krem slammed his tankard down on the table.  “You lot want to hear this or not?”

His mind still flashing through the multitude of stupid things he’d done in his life, most of them with Felix and Emile in tow, Dorian groaned softly as he waved his hand for Krem to continue.  At least this way he wouldn’t be alone in the torment.

A rousing cheer went up and tankards were raised as Krem shifted to sit on the top rail of his chair so he could be seen the entire length of the table.  “So, for those of you who haven’t been to the Anderfels there's only two seasons, hot and dry enough to melt your flesh from your body or not quite hot enough to melt flesh so instead enjoy the sandstorms that rage for days and will instead tear the skin from your body.  A lovely place, really.”

“You say that Cremisius but you don’t actually mean…”

Varric interrupted Cole with a hand on his arm, “I’ll explain later, Kid.”

“So Chief got us this contract to escort a princess from Hossberg to this sculpture of Andraste, huge beast of a thing that takes up the side of a mountain made out of white marble.  Apparently the people there believe that if they make the pilgrimage to pray at her feet then they’ll be blessed with long life or fertility or some shit like that.  Anyway, what the Chief didn’t find out ‘til we got there was that the Princess was going as an invited guest of the Chantry and they weren’t too excited about the concept of having a ‘Vint and a Qunari traveling with them, let alone as mercs.”

“Righteous bastards tried to get me to cook,” Skinner piped up, leaning far enough over the table that she could glare at Bull.

“Anyway,” Krem started again with a pointed look at Skinner.  “The Chief finally got them to agree to let us accompany them if we were willing to pose as acolytes but they didn’t have robes big enough for the Chief and by now the entire procession was starting to get nervous, something about there being a specific day that the pilgrimage had to start on to ensure the most auspices outcome.”

“Our boy Krem here saved the day,” Stitches took up the story, pausing to take a long pull of his ale before slamming the tankard back to the table.  “Took one look at the curtains in the noble’s house and said he could stitch something together.”

Dorian felt Bull’s groan as much as heard it, his lover’s head dropping down to rest against the top of his own as Krem crowed, “Best dress I ever made.  Fuck, only dress I ever made.”

“It was a _robe_ Krem,” Bull rumbled, ignoring Dorian’s fist slamming into his shoulder.

“And you tease me about wearing a skirt.”

“You _do_ wear a skirt Kadan.”

“’Least his isn’t bright yellow with pretty red flowers all over it,” Rocky chuckled, all of the Chargers joining him in the memory.

“Oh, I _have_ to use this,” Varric whispered almost to himself.

Krem wiped away a tear.  “We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

“Cremisius…”

“Did you know that druffalo are apparently drawn to the color red?  A week, it took us a fucking week to get to that Maker forsaken statue out in the middle of nowhere and by the time we got there the Chief had a herd of druffalo following him like he was some fucking pied piper or something.  The Chantry sisters insisted it was a good sign, that killing any of them would bring bad luck on the entire venture and yet every morning it seemed like they had doubled in number.  By the time we got close to the statue there were so many of them kicking up so much dust an entire contingent of Grey Wardens had ridden out of Weisshaupt thinking they were being invaded.”

“Never seen so many confused Shem in my life,” Skinner chuckled.  “All of them lined up so pretty, weapons at the ready and when the dust cleared they were facing a couple dozen pilgrims, a few hundred druffalo and the Chief looking like some Orlesian debutante’s worst nightmare.”

“Hey!”

“It _was_ really bad,” Dalish whispered to Krem, patting his arm sympathetically.

“Wot’cha do?” Sera asked, eyes darting from Krem to Bull and back again.

Krem snorted.  “Boss walked right up to the senior Warden and said he was looking for a spouse and the druffalo were his dowry.”

The entire table erupted into laughter, even Bull, and Dorian looked up at his lover with a mock scowl.  “Have you been holding out on me Amatus?”

“You planning on marrying me ‘Vint?”

“Well, you do know how I do love druffalo.”

The laughter that had been dying down began again and Dorian looked around the table and shook his head slowly amazed to find that even with his own secrets being aired he was happy to be home.  Frowning slightly he wondered when exactly Skyhold had started feeling like that for him.  It wasn’t of course, someday he still had to return…

A tugging on Dorian’s sleeve interrupted his thoughts and he looked over to find Emile tilting his head indicating he wanted to talk to Dorian outside.  Glancing up to see that Bull had caught the motion, of course he had caught the motion, Dorian rose and instead of leading the other ‘Vint outside he headed up the steps toward Bull’s room.  It offered more privacy and he had a feeling this conversation was going to require it.

 

Dorian waited until the door was closed between them and the tavern before tossing a spark toward the fireplace and gesturing for Emile to take a seat at the small table in the corner.  “So, judging from this evening I have _you_ to thank for the odd looks and snickers I’ve been getting since returning.”

It was hard to tell by firelight but it appeared Emile blushed slightly.  “I didn’t think you’d mind Ren, we were just having fun.  I didn’t mean to cause you any…”

“They aren’t just my stories Em,” Dorian admitted, settling onto the other seat at the table.

“I have to admit, the Chargers are a fun group.  I’ll miss them when I leave.”

“So, you are going home.”

“Day after tomorrow.  Father is making noises again about not wanting to spend another winter in Minrathous.”

Dorian snorted.  “I should send some of this snow home with you.   A little example of what winter really is.”

“Spoken by the man who used to pull out the goose down duvet as soon as the trees began to change color.”

“I suppose I did, didn’t I?” Dorian mused before regarding his friend soberly as he reached out one hand to rest it gently over one of Emile’s.  “Tell me you want this Em.  That you aren’t just taking his seat because it’s what is expected.”

“Oh Ren,” Emile sighed, slipping his hand from beneath Dorian’s to the top, gently patting as he too regarded his long-time friend carefully.  “The South has been good for you.  _He_ has been good for you.”

Dorian could only hope Emile could no easier see his blush than he had the other man’s earlier.

“The old Ren would never have asked.  You would have just done your duty and expected that I would do the same when the time came.  But I appreciate that you asked _now_ , that it matters to you.  And if it sets your mind at ease the answer is yes, I want it.  Things are changing at home Dorian, not those easy changes that seem to happen overnight and disappear just as quickly but true, long-term change.  It’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You know that you have my support Em, always.”

Emile chuckled softly.  “We’ll see once you’ve heard what I have to say.  I hope you still feel that way.”

Dorian frowned, a soft shiver coursing down his spine for a reason he couldn’t entirely understand.  “What am I missing Em?”

“Let me say that it starts with Mae, Ren.  It was her idea first but there are those of us among the Altus who are beginning to agree with her.  Men like you and I who are reaching the age that our taking over the family seat is getting close who know that Tevinter has no hope if it continues to embrace the old ways.  These Venatori, they’re just more of the old school and you know better than anyone how crazy they sound.  No, if we are ever to make Tevinter great again we cannot continue to consider ourselves above the rest of Thedas, to continue to look at Southern mages as idiot cousins to be pitied rather than embraced.”

“You know talk like this could cost your house its seat in the Magisterium.”

“Now yes, but there are more of us than you could even believe Dorian.  In ten years there could be real changes happening in Tevinter and Mae and I believe _you_ are critical to those changes.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know, a cliffhanger. I won't leave it too long before I delve deeper into the conversation between Dorian and Emile, I'm already working on the next part of the series where this will be explored in greater detail...


End file.
